Fragile
by Drucilla
Summary: "On and on the rain will fall / Like tears from the star Like tears from the star / On and on the rain will say / How fragile we are How fragile we are."


Author's Note: I don't own Mason or Brennan. I do own Angelique, but I don't own the house she lives in. That belongs to my aunt, believe it or not. I don't own the song lyrics either. Those belong to Sting.   
This is a kind-of-but-not-really sequel to All The Queen's Horses. It's a kind-of sequel because it's set after the story, and it's a not-really sequel because it's just one scene that I couldn't fit anywhere else. I do have a sequel in mind, involving scary psychotic empaths and a coma and some death, but that's still got a long ways to go yet. The first parts of it will be up eventually. If anyone has suggestions, feel free to make them in a review or e-mail me with them: my address is in my profile. Hope everyone likes this, please please please review as always, thank you all for reading, and please don't feed the horses. :) 

It was 11:35 pm, and he was out of the labs. He must be suicidal.

Mason Eckhart walked laboriously up the hill that led to the large farmhouse he'd never been to, but somehow knew exactly where it was on the property. It was almost exactly as he'd imagined it: a hodgepodge of design, looking as though section had been piled on top of section, and then it had all been covered over with a pretty wood finish. There were nearly entirely windowed rooms, skylights, and small attic rooms… everything she'd always wanted. Mason smiled bitterly. At least one of them got to have it all.

He was nearly out of breath by the time he'd reached the door… steep hill. He raised his hand to knock and then paused… would she be home? Would she even be awake? Even the horses had been asleep as he had passed the stables, giving them a wide berth just in case. Would she want to see him if she was? Maybe she would just ignore him, leave him to make his own way back. It would be, he thought sardonically, no less than he deserved. But then, when had she ever given him anything he deserved? He rung the doorbell and then stood back and waited.

After a few minutes he heard the sound of the heavy wooden door being unlatched, and then she stood framed in the screen door, looking bleary-eyed and sleepy. Mason blinked. He'd never seen her in such a personal, intimate state before: just tumbled out of bed in an oversized, antique My Little Pony t-shirt that was nearly more holes than cloth and some baggy sweat pants that looked like they'd seen better days. Her hair was all matted and frizzled about her head. He really must have woken her up. "Mason?" she blinked at him sleepily.

"I… woke you up. I'm sorry…" He really didn't know how to handle this. He wasn't at all prepared for anything like this. This was completely beyond his realm of comprehension. It was as unthinkable as raiding Sanctuary and finding Adam half-asleep in his boxers and … what? An X-Men t-shirt? 

"No…" she yawned. "'s okay. C'mon in…" she opened the screen door and gestured him inside. He hesitated on the threshold, completely off his game. "Oh come on in, Mason," she said a bit more coherently. "I don't bite. Unless you ask nice."

"I don't do that anymore," he muttered. She only smiled enigmatically, and gestured, and he went in. 

It was almost too cozy inside… the door he had walked into opened straight into the kitchen and dining room. A table at one end would have caught the sunlight if it had been day… as it was, it caught the moonlight almost poignantly through the windows surrounding it on one side. A huge refrigerator and stove stood on the opposite wall, framing a counter that looked as though it had been used for bread-making recently. He even caught sight of an old wood stove to the left, cast-iron and everything. Angelique pulled a kettle out from the cupboards over the counter and began setting some water on to boil.

"No warning, nearly midnight. You look like you just ran a marathon," she said conversationally as she lit the stove. Gas. This house was older than it looked. "Something must be up, for you to come knocking on my door so late at night."

Her tone of voice was guarded, and for a few seconds Mason thought he was going to be forcibly ejected from the premises. Or run over by horses, as she had threatened. The moment passed. "It's…" he started, and then realized how silly he was going to sound. Mason scowled.

Angelique waited patiently for the kettle to boil and Mason to speak his mind. She looked a bit more alert, and quite plainly had all night to wait. The kettle boiled before he figured out how to phrase what had been on his mind so that it didn't make him sound twenty years younger and even more insecure. She poured the hot water calmly into a mug, setting another one out in silent invitation, and waited a few minutes for the water to cool before dumping a few scoops of chocolate powder into it. "It's…?" she asked after a few minutes, blowing on the hot chocolate so that she wouldn't burn her tongue.

Mason started to say something, stopped, started to try again, and stopped again. He was starting to feel like a teenager again, and while that might be all very well for those who could lead normal lives it wasn't exactly a feeling he wanted to recapture in his current state. "Here," Angelique offered, "Let's go sit down…"

Angelique led him through the television lounge and down a small flight of stairs. He glanced around; it was as much of a hodgepodge inside as it was outside. At the other end of the narrow, small hallway was a small door. It felt almost as though they had gone into the basement. The hill, he realized. She built this on a hill. She opened the door and once more Mason hesitated on the threshold, suddenly realizing where she was taking him.

"Are you sure…?" 

She smiled slightly. "What? Got designs on me I should know about?"

He gave her a slightly hurt you-should-know-better look. She smiled again, shrugged, and opened the door. Mason tried to look around without being too obvious. It was a small room, but everywhere around it were little personal touches that made it definably, recognizably hers. 

She set her coffee on the ledge of one of the two huge windows that took up two walls, and scooted back into the corner of the room on the bed that was more an extremely large pillow than a real bed. She patted the opposite corner. "You can sit down, you know. It's not like this place is trapped or anything."

Trapped. That's exactly what it was, a trap. But she wouldn't see it that way. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, suddenly very aware that nearly everything in this room could kill him, and aware that she knew this as much as he did.

"So. What's on your mind at midnight?" she asked. She seemed so innocuous, in her oversized kid's shirt and with her cup of hot chocolate. Like an overgrown, lanky child. He'd never related well to children even before the incident.

"I…" No avoiding it now. What the hell was he going to say? "I don't know." 

This didn't seem to surprise her as much as it had him. Angelique shrugged. "That's honest, anyway." She sipped her hot chocolate. "You staying for the night or leaving as soon as you figure out what you're doing here?"

Mason blinked. Staying hadn't occurred to him. And it wasn't physically possible, anyway. "I can't stay. You know that."

Angelique gave him a decidedly disappointed stare. "Mason. I thought you were more intelligent than that. Of course you can stay. And yes," she interrupted before he could point out harshly that his condition made it impossible for him to stay out of the lab for any length of time, "I know what you're referring to. You should know what I'm referring to. You tried to put me in a stasis pod for it six months ago." She sipped her hot chocolate again, staring down at the blanket. "I probably shouldn't offer, but…"

Mason hadn't actually thought she would offer, but now that she had he could almost feel the gratitude seeping through him, a warm and slightly odd feeling. It had been a very long time since he'd had occasion to feel genuinely grateful to anyone. And then the euphoria set in, as he realized what she meant. A few days, as short as they were, when he wouldn't have to be careful. A few days in which he could live a normal life, or as normal as his life got these days. The last time he hadn't exactly enjoyed it; he'd been too busy trying to figure out when the remission would dissipate and whether or not he would survive when it did. This time…

"Why?" 

She looked like she was going to throw the drink in his face. "Mason, dammit, we went over this. You're my friend. You're more than my friend. And, hell, I wouldn't let you live like that if I could," she sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "That's no way for anyone to live."

"At least someone thinks so," he grumbled. He didn't mean to grumble, it just sort of happened. Bitterness at Adam for not even trying. Anger at the jumped-up self-righteous Mutant X kids for not even trying to understand. Annoyance at all the over-eager GSA trainees, who didn't see what a lifetime at GenomeX working security had gotten him. Why the hell anyone would want his job was beyond him, some days. Tonight must have been one of them.

Angelique set her hot chocolate back down on the ledge and took his hands in hers. "There are two sides to every story," she said, slowly pulling off the leather gloves he wore. "And the truth generally lies somewhere between them. I am _not_ happy about what you've been doing with the so-called New Mutants. Or what you tried to do to me." She locked eyes with him, and despite long-ago acquired habit he looked away first. "But while I don't condone your actions, I also understand at least some of what you're going through," she continued, caressing the palm of his hand lightly with her fingertips. The tingling sensation was back, spreading through his arms, and throughout his entire body. "And I am sorry for it." She sank back into her corner, suddenly looking extremely drained.

He stared at her, then at his hands. Mason knew, physically, he shouldn't feel any different. The effects should take time to become noticeable to him, it shouldn't happen as immediately as that. But somehow he did feel different: stronger, healthier. More like his old self. He looked over at her; by contrast Angelique looked as though a stiff wind would kill her, with her eyes closed and her body slumped over. Was this what she'd looked like before, the last time she'd done this? He'd been too distracted to notice. 

"Angelique…" he started to say. The doorbell interrupted him. 

"Whathefu…" Angelique said, struggling to open her eyes it looked like. Mason stared in the general direction of the door; if looks could have killed, the person on the other side would have been a smoldering crater. Angelique caught the look and made some sort of noise between a chuckle and an exasperated sigh.

"I could just tell whoever it is to go away," Mason offered wryly, knowing she wouldn't agree. What he really wanted to do was open the door and unleash all the anger, frustration, and irritation he'd accumulated over the past six months at whoever was standing outside. And the fear, don't forget the fear. Much as he might like to. He wanted to pound whoever was out there into the dirt, till they were bleeding on her doorstep. He also knew that she'd've pounded _him_ into red dust if she even knew he was thinking such a thing, so he said nothing. Damn her altruistic streak, anyway.

"I'll be okay," Angelique lied blatantly, pulling herself up along the wall. He didn't know what she was doing to give herself the extra energy burst… endorphins, adrenaline, something. "Just a second!" she called to whoever was out there. The noise stopped. Mason resisted the urge to pound his head against the wall (although the idea that he could and not instantly kill himself was distinctly pleasing). 

"You're going to fall over," he told her. She gave him a half-hearted glare and proceeded to drag herself through the hallway, lounge, and kitchen and over to the door. She didn't fall over, although she was as out of breath as he had been by the time she reached the doorway. He stayed behind, in the doorway that joined the TV room to the kitchen. 

"Brennan!" he heard her say, startled. Oh good god. That was all they needed, one of the Mutant X-kids. 

"… you look like shit," Brennan said, sounding startled. Thank you for that gracious compliment, Mason thought sardonically, carefully forgetting that he had been thinking the same thing two minutes earlier. 

"Thank you," Angelique said dryly. "I feel like hammered shit. Come on in. What's up?"

"I don't know," he said wryly, walking in. It was the phrase of the night, Mason thought. Although the boy could have had better sense than to pick the same night as he had. "It's…" Brennan trailed off, seeing Mason leaning casually in the doorway. The older man barely resisted a trademark smirk at the look of startlement on the boy's face. 

"Oh, don't let me stop you," he said. 

Brennan glared. "What is he doing here?"

"The same as you," Angelique tottered over to the counter where the water was still at least somewhat warm, and started trying to pour another mug of hot chocolate. Her hands shook so violently that she ended up spilling half of it. "Shit."

Brennan was too startled to being moving immediately, and so Mason beat him to the rescue. "Stop that," he chided her gently, causing the Mutant X-er to stare. She gave a wry half-smile and leaned back against the counter while Mason poured the hot chocolate. "You're lucky it wasn't still boiling hot."

"I'm lucky I have intelligent friends around to remind me I can't pour hot water after extensive biokinetics," she replied wryly. "Thanks."

Brennan stared from one to the other, utterly confused. His reflexes were telling him that he had to fry Mason where he stood, but the evidence of his senses was telling him that Mason was actually being considerate and helpful for once. He hadn't thought it was in the man's capability to do any such thing. In fact, he was so surprised that he took the offered drink without comment or sarcasm. Mason, arching his eyebrows at Brennan as the younger man failed to comment, repaid the courtesy and didn't do anything crass either. 

"Here, sit down," Angelique gestured to the table in the moonlit corner of the gigantic room. "Sit down before I fall down," she smiled wryly. Brennan nearly raced to the table, as best as he could without being too obvious about it, but it was Mason who got there first and held out the chair for her. As if in competition, Brennan took her arm and escorted her over to it. If all the posturing amused Angelique she gave no sign. "What's up?"

"It's…" Brennan paused, looking over at Mason as though he expected GSAs to ambush them all at any given moment.

"Don't worry," Angelique smiled slightly, knowing what both of them were thinking. "You can speak freely. Nothing you say here will go beyond these four walls unless you want it to." The look she directed at Mason threatened plague, syphilis, and ebola if he so much as indicated that he would go against her statement. And she could keep him alive long enough for him to enjoy each one individually, and then all of them concurrently. Mason shook his head and held up his hands in silent surrender. And then he disappeared through the pantry. 

"It's Emma," Brennan said suddenly, as though Mason's departure had flipped an internal switch. "I don't know what's going on… I don't know if it's me, or her, or what. I feel like I should be talking to her or saying something to her, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do either, and… Well… I like her," he trailed off lamely. Angelique smiled slightly.

"You sound like you're in grade school, Brennan," she said gently. "You mean you want to ask her out on a date, right?" 

Brennan shrugged sheepishly. "It's not like it used to be. And… it's Emma. I mean, I like her…" they both chuckled at the repetition, "but I don't know how to handle it. It's kind of a unique situation… I mean, with Adam and everything…" he trailed off, looking up as Mason re-entered with the cup of luke-warm cocoa in hands. 

Angelique glanced up at him with a grateful look as he set the cup down in front of her. She picked it up slowly, sipping very carefully before putting it down again. Her hands were still shaking. "Well. In the police force, they don't let cops date their partners, for very specific reasons. But you're right; it is a unique situation." She tipped her head to one side. "Are you serious about her?"

Brennan looked slightly uncomfortable. "I've been thinking about this for a while… I guess she's been thinking about it too. I don't know. I feel… strange, whenever I'm around her, like I'm hot and cold at the same time… like my powers have gone completely out of control. I get all..."

"… tingly, like little electric shocks go up your arms whenever you touch her," Angelique smiled wryly. "It's called love, Brennan. You're in love. Pure and simple."

Brennan stared at her skeptically. "I thought it was supposed to be like… I don't know. You can't stop thinking about them or talking about them. You always want to be around them. It's not like that with Emma."

"That's not love, dear, that's obsession. Infatuation." Brennan didn't notice Mason wince at her statement, fortunately for all involved. "Love is similar, which is why people so often mistake the one for the other.

"So what is love?" Brennan challenged.

Angelique sighed heavily, a sigh that turned into a half-suppressed yawn. "You really don't ask the easy ones, do you?" she said wryly, then waved away Brennan's half-apology. "Love is…" she paused, thinking, carefully not looking at the suddenly tired-looking man who slumped down behind her. "Love is not something that takes away. Love gives strength, it doesn't sap it like obsession does. When you're in love with someone, yes, you may think about them more often than you normally would, but you're still able to concentrate on other things. It empowers, it makes you feel… more yourself, in a way…" she trailed off, suddenly unsure of where she was going with that train of thought. And she was very, very tired.

"When you're in love with someone," Mason said quietly, causing Brennan to look sharply in his direction. "You cannot stand to see them unhappy… not drastically so." 

Brennan looked as though he would contest whether Mason Eckhart had ever been in love, but the other man never gave him a chance.

"You can't stand to see them in pain, hurting themselves or other people hurting them, no matter what the cause. And no matter how angry you are at them you cannot, ultimately, hurt them without hurting yourself in the process."

"There's another difference between love and obsession," Angelique murmured, underlining Mason's assertions. This time Brennan did catch it, narrowing his eyes at the two of them.

"But when they're happy, content… it's as though the entire world suddenly seems new. Everything becomes wonderful, joyous. It's by no means an extreme effect, but if you pay attention you notice… when they smile, you feel like smiling back. It's the most amazing thing," he said, speaking very quietly now. 

Brennan looked down at the table uneasily. Of all the people he had thought about seeking advice from Mason Eckhart was somewhere on the very bottom of the list. Angelique really did look like hammered shit, and what Eckhart was saying made eerie sense. But it was also giving him the distinct impression that, not unlike when Adam talked about the old days with Eckhart, he was witnessing something intensely personal. It made him almost feel like a voyeur. 

As everyone fell silent the two men realized that Angelique had fallen asleep. Mason reached out to touch her hair, gloveless, something he had rarely done. Conscious of Brennan's presence, he pulled back and shook her shoulder instead. "Angelique."

"Mmm?"

"You should go to bed."

"Mmm." She seemed to agree, but she also seemed not to have the strength to be able to make it back to her room. Mason looked at her, not quite sure if he wanted to try to carry her down even that small flight of steps. 

In the end it was Brennan's help that enabled them to get her down to her room. Cooperating for what must have felt like the first time, they supported her barely-conscious steps down to her bed, where she dragged herself across the pillows and curled up in the far corner. Brennan turned and left the room immediately; Mason stayed to watch her for a few minutes, wondering exactly what was going on. 

When he got back to the kitchen they cleared away the dishes with matching senses of cognitive dissonance. Doing dishes with their mortal enemy in the house of the woman they both respected too much to disturb, the woman who forced them into a treaty at least as long as they were on her land, was not what they had expected. They were quiet and subdued, very unsure, and Brennan kept having the nagging feeling that he should take Eckhart out and fry him. He didn't want to spend the rest of his natural life with herpes, though. And knowing Angelique, she _would_ do something like that. Mason was having similar intimations, but he would never have disturbed the sanctity of her home, especially now. 

"I suppose you'd better stay the night," Mason said abruptly, making Brennan jump and spark slightly. They both stepped back and stared at each other warily, not entirely sure what each was going to do. "She'd say it's too late to go home, now."

Brennan looked up at the clock; it was 2:30 in the morning.

"She has guest rooms…" Mason offered, hoping the other man would know where they were.

"I know," Brennan almost interrupted. They stared at each other a few minutes more.

"Good night," he said, still feeling incredibly strange about saying that to someone who should be his mortal enemy. But to do otherwise would be to break the peace Angelique had placed upon her home. And after what she had done for him, at a cost he was just now beginning to see and understand… 

"Yeah…" Brennan said dubiously, but evidently feeling the same as Mason did. "You too." He disappeared up the stairs.

Mason started down the hall, not entirely sure what to do now. He supposed he should sleep, and given what Angelique had done for him he could do so here as easily as back at the lab. But… where, if here? And he had to make sure she was at least settled down first. She had probably fallen asleep where she'd propped herself up against the wall, and he knew from experience that that was going to leave serious aches in the morning.

He opened her door slowly, peeking in and feeling incredibly voyeuristic about doing so. As he had thought, she was propped up against the wall and sleeping, her breath puffing out her hair as it used to. She hadn't even had the strength to move from where she'd collapsed. He frowned. If it was so draining to her, why had she … no, don't think about that. Don't think about that. He stared, wondering what he should do. She looked even more fragile when asleep, now, than she had fourteen, fifteen years ago. 

"Angelique," he leaned over the bed and shook her shoulder gently. As though she'd really have the strength to move, he thought wryly to himself. Still, it was worth a try. "Angelique." She didn't move. He really didn't want to get caught doing this, not with the Mutant X boy upstairs. "_Cherie. Ma chere…_"

"Mmph," she said, not opening her eyes. "Wuh."

"You're not going to be at all happy in the morning if you go to sleep like that," he said dryly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him; they were bloodshot, tired. He stared openly. 

"Guh," Angelique articulated what she thought of that idea, and closed her eyes again. In a few seconds she'd fallen back asleep. He sighed, and started pulling up the bedcovers from where she'd tossed them aside to answer the door the first time. Pillows he found scattered along the wall, with her leaning on most of them. As gently as he could, he picked her up and tucked her in, laying her in a more comfortable position on the pillows and tucking the covers up to her chin.

"Nuh," she muttered as he tried to stand up again, her eyes still closed and her hand gripping his more firmly than she had a right to if she was going to be this exhausted at him. She opened her eyes, still blood-shot. "C'mere."

Mason stared at her. She couldn't possibly be saying what he thought she was saying. More to the point, she was exhausted and not thinking clearly. Of course she wasn't, because no one who was thinking clearly could… "Are you sure?"

"C'mere," she said, and yanked his arm so hard he nearly fell directly on top of her. She did meant it, even if she'd probably regret it in the morning. Unfortunately for her, Mason was just unscrupulous enough to leap at the opportunity he'd been wanting for twenty years.

Gently he extricated his hand from her grasp and pulled off his suit jacket, folding it neatly and laying it to one side. Belt and firearm went on top of the pile. He slid under the covers gingerly, still moving as though any second he might come into contact with something that would hurt him, and then kill him. The second he came into contact with Angelique, however, she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up to him. Mason took a deep breath, let it out again in a racking, shuddering sigh. This would never, ever happen again.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her as she drifted back to sleep. Enjoy it while it lasts, he told himself bitterly. Enjoy it while it lasts. She'll never let you this close to her again.

  
  
  
  


Mason woke before everyone else in the house. He felt warmth and softness where there shouldn't be, and looked around. Somehow, in the middle of the night, Angelique had found the strength to be naughty. 

Not too naughty, but close enough. His shirt had been entirely unbuttoned, her cheek was snuggled against his bare chest, and her arms were wrapped around his waist. Her breath puffed out in soft breezes over his skin, and her hair tickled his stomach where it had fallen over both of them. The sun was barely up, but there was enough light for him to see by. He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, wondering how in the world this had happened. Wondering, with the bitterness that had become customary over forty years, when the world would take it all away.

She wasn't even close to waking up, and the Mutant X kid was probably still asleep as well. Time to leave while he still could. If she woke up, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Her exhaustion was good for one thing at least. She barely stirred when he eased himself out of the bed, stood and put on the jacket again, re-buttoning his shirt. Preparing for the real world. 

There were birds singing as he stepped outside the house, looking around. How long had it been since he'd heard birds singing in the morning? Too long; there weren't any birds near the labs. Somewhere in the distance he heard a peacock, a sound he only recognized because he'd heard one in a zoo once. The car he'd obtained to drive up here was still parked at the bottom of the hills. This time, he had the breath to climb down. He enjoyed every minute of it, and enjoyed the sensation of taking joy in something, knowing how fleeting the moments were, and how fragile.


End file.
